Verse and Worse

You broke a British Square!

North and South and East and West, the message travels fast!
East and West and North and South, the bugles blare and blast!
Hear we but a whisper that the foe is at the walls,
And, by Gad, we'll show them something when the Mother Country calls!

AFTWORD

'Tis done! We reach the final page
With feelings of relief, I'm certain;
And there arrives, at such a stage,
The moment to ring down the Curtain.
(This metaphor is freely taken
From Shakespeare, – or perhaps from Bacon.)

The Book perused, our Future brings
A plethora of blank to-morrows,
When memories of Happier Things
Will be our Sorrow's Crown of Sorrows.
(I trust you recognise this line
As being Tennyson's, not mine.)

My verses may indeed be few,
But are they not, to quote the poet,
'The sweetest things that ever grew
Beside a human door'? I know it!
(What an inhuman door would be,
Enquire of Wordsworth, please, not me.)

'Twas one of my most cherished dreams
To write a Moral Book some day; —
What says the Bard? 'The best laid schemes
Of Mice and Men gang aft agley!'
(The Bard here mentioned, by the bye,
Is Robbie Burns, of course, – not I.)

And tho' my pen records each thought
As swift as the phonetic Pitman,
Morality is not my 'forte,'
O Camarados! (vide Whitman).
And, like the Porcupine, I still
Am forced to ply a fretful quill.

We may be Masters of our Fate,
(As Henley was inspired to mention),
Yet am I but the Second Mate
Upon the s.s. 'Good Intention';
For me the course direct is lacking, —
I have to do a deal of tacking.

To seek for Morals here's a task
Of which you well may be despairing;
'What has become of them?' you ask.
They've given me the slip, – like Waring.
'Look East!' said Browning once, and I
Would make a similar reply.

Look East, where in a garret drear,
The Author works, without cessation,
Composing verses for a mere-
Ly nominal remuneration;
And, while he has the strength to write 'em,
Will do so still —ad infinitum!

ENVOI

Speed, flippant rhymes, throughout the land;
Disperse yourselves with patient zeal!
Go, perch upon the critic's hand,
Just after he has had a meal.
But should he still unfriendly be,
Unperch and hasten back to me.

…

O gentle maid, O happy boy,
This copy of my book is done;
But don't forget that I enjoy
A royalty on ev'ry one;
Just think how wealthy I should be,
If you would purchase two or three!

MORAL

No moral that I ever took
Seemed quite so evident before.
If purchasing an author's book
Will keep the wolf from his back-door,
It is our very obvious mission
To buy up the entire edition.

FINIS